


Night's End

by prettyaveragewhiteshark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clexa Pirate AU, F/F, Pirate AU, clexa au, pirate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyaveragewhiteshark/pseuds/prettyaveragewhiteshark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of two life-long rivals on the high seas, pirate Captain Clarke Griffin and the Royal Navy's finest, Commander Alexandra "Lexa" Crain. The two are embroiled in a deadly game of cat and mouse, sharing a history fraught with violence and turmoil. However, the two have secrets that hardly anyone else knows, secrets that, if brought back to the surface, could change everything.</p><p>***A/N: PLEASE NOTE - I understand that this fandom is VERY set on Lexa's last name being Woods. However, please know that "crainn" is Irish Gaelic for "trees" so I haven't shot that idea all to hell. Just so you guys know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello beautiful reader! Thanks for taking a minute to partake of my current fictional pastime. I hope you love it, and if you do, feel free to hit that kudos button or even leave a comment with a few keystrokes of your gorgeous and talented fingers. You're the best. 
> 
> Major, MAJOR thanks are in order for my dear friends goldfyshie927 (AO3 and tumblr username) and helenayouadorablelittleshit (tumblr only) who have been instrumental in bringing this story to life. You guys are the real MVPs.

The wharf thrummed with bodies, soldiers and sailors rushing to and fro with barrels of gunpowder, armloads of muskets, trunks with several days’ worth of supplies for travel. The ship  _Night Queen_ sat low in the water and bodies were thronging the ratlines and sail yards, disappearing on the upper masts in the shining morning sun as they prepped her for hoisting anchor.

Commander Alexandra Crain was immune to the noise and the frenzy, her gaze fixed singularly upon the bowsprit of her ship as she strode down the dock. She hardly noticed the path that parted before her through the crowds of people. Not a man or woman with half a brain would risk getting in her way, and with good reason. Her reputation had preceded her without exception for years now -- the youngest female to have attained the rank of Commander in the Royal Fleet, internationally known for her swift and brutal retaliation against even the most dangerous pirates, and without a doubt the finest warrior on the high seas. Hardly a human living had never heard the tales of The Commander and her _Night Queen_ crew.

Her first mate was waiting for her as she stepped from the gangplank to the ship’s deck. “Commander.”

She hardly glanced up at the towering man and he fell in step beside her as she headed toward the quarterdeck.

“What news, Augustus?”

“Another sighting was reported along the southern coast, just fifteen miles south of the St. Mary township.”

“Distributing what they took, I assume?”

“Most likely.”

 _Daring_ , she thought to herself. _But foolish_.

It seemed a deliberate jab at the Royal Navy and, undoubtedly, at the Commander herself. The pirate captain Griffin had grown bolder each time she had managed to escape the grasp of the Empire. She surely knew that word of the plunder of St. Mary had reached official ears and a pursuit ship would be hard on her heels, but she seemed intent on maintaining her habit of distributing the pirated riches to the impoverished before taking to the open sea again.

The Commander felt the familiar mix of admiration and slight dread coiling in her chest at the thought of the pirate. Not for the first time, a mild misgiving accompanied the image of Captain Griffin hanging from the gallows. The Commander had never faced a braver, more worthy opponent, but duty to Queen and country came first and the pirate would be shown no mercy when she was finally brought to justice.

The quartermaster and helmsman were standing at the wheel, an open map held between them. They snapped to attention as she approached, but she waved off the formality with a single hand.

“Indra, how much longer until we raise anchor?”

The quartermaster scanned the sails and ratlines, assessing the progress of the crew.

“No more than twenty minutes, Commander.”

“Make it ten.”

The short haired woman nodded brusquely, then strode toward the rail of the quarterdeck. Her normally controlled voice became a practiced bellow that echoed across the planks.

“All hands prepare for hoist anchor! Unfurl main topgallant and royal. Rig the jibs for southeastern course under full sail. With a quickness, pirates wait on no man.”

The Commander turned to the helmsman, running her fingers down the length of her sword hilt.

“I hope you are ready to sail with all speed, Anya.”

The woman gave a crooked grin, a glint of excitement showing in her hooded eyes.

“Aye, Commander. With all speed.”

* * *

 

She sat perched over the bowsprit, gaze locked on the horizon. The anticipation was heady; she could have waited on the word from the crow’s nest but she didn’t trust anyone’s eyes but her own. She wanted to see  _Night Queen_ for herself, to ensure that her gamble had paid off and it was indeed The Commander in pursuit.

“Captain,” came a voice from behind her. “Is it wise to stay in the open like this?”

She didn’t turn to look at her second mate.

“Don’t worry, Bellamy. I’ll see her before she sees me.”

“Are you even sure this plan will work?”

A flash of irritation sparked in her chest but she wasn’t willing to turn away from her fixed gaze on the horizon to give him a silencing look.

“Is the crew in place like I told them to be? Are they ready to sail the moment you send the signal?”

“Yes --”

“Then it’ll work.”

“But--”

“Get below decks and prepare to give the signal, Bellamy,” she said, and her tone left no room for argument.

She heard his sigh before he turned and his footsteps faded away behind her.

 _It’ll work_ , she told herself again. All the same, her gamble was just that -- a gamble, and nothing was certain at this point. She only hoped the draw of seeing the infamous Captain Griffin hanged would be enough for The Commander to make the decision that would lead to a successful ambush.

She saw the tip of the bowsprit as the cry rang out from above.

“Ship, ho!”

She leaped to stand upright, gripping the jib rigging to steady herself. Was it…?

The bow of the approaching ship came into view around the edge of the distant coast and her heart jumped into her throat at the words emblazoned across the wood - _Night Queen_.

She turned then, hardly realizing that she was grinning in excitement as she leaped to the planks and went swiftly down the stairway to the main deck. The ship’s captain was standing at the main mast, his arms folded across his burly chest.

“As we agreed, Captain Quint,” she said shortly.

He nodded, then gave a look at the crewmates nearby. They immediately set about binding her hands behind her back and then tying her arms in place and placing a gag across her mouth.

“If your crew tries to leave without deliverin’ the other half of what I was promised,” Quint growled at her, “I’ll slit your throat myself.”

She nodded, shrugging as if to say, “That’s fair.”

When the ropes were tight, the crewmates stepped back and she raised her eyebrows at Quint. He grinned wickedly, adjusting a thick ring on his middle finger.

“My pleasure,” he said, and struck her hard across the face. The blow knocked her to the deck planks, and she was hauled back to her feet by the crewmates, shaking stars from her eyes.

She grunted through the gag, “Again,” and the massive man seemed more than happy to oblige, bloodying her nose with the second strike.

He was winding up for a third when a deckhand called from his watch point on the bulwark.

“Sir! They’re getting close!”

He begrudgingly stayed his hand, instead grabbing her roughly by the collar and turning her to face the bowsprit.

“Lift the white flag,” he bellowed, unsheathing his sword and resting it against her collarbone as he moved her roughly toward the foredeck. “Stay ready, lads. Never can be too careful with the Queen’s dogs.”

She watched as the _Night Queen_ slowly approached the bay. Uniformed soldiers lined the bulwarks, muskets trained on _The Hangman’s Lady_ and her crew. She caught sight of a familiar figure and her heart leapt. She’d recognize that posture anywhere, and the long brown braids that fell across those squared shoulders were a dead giveaway.

 _Lexa_.

The name rang in her mind like an echo, a distant memory, and she blinked against the onslaught of emotions that flooded her chest. Now was not the time; the ambush could very well mean the end of The Commander, and sentimentality would only hinder her plan.

 _Steady, Clarke,_ she told herself. _Steady on_.

She heard a terse command given, floating across the distance between the two ships and echoing around the bay.

“Hold your fire. The white flag has been raised.”

Her voice still sounded the same, Clarke thought. Low and commanding, power in the steadiness of it.

“Commander Crain,” Quint bellowed, and Clarke flinched, jarred out of her thoughts by his grating voice. “We’ve got something ye want.”

“I want an end to all pirates, Mister Quint,” the Commander called back, and Clarke felt him grunt in anger at the distinct absence of the title of Captain. “And I’m looking at a shipful of them. Give me a good reason not to take your whole crew back to the Queen and see every dog of you hanged.”

“Aye, we’re pirates,” Quint snarled back. “But none of us so well-known and wanted as Captain Clarke Griffin of _Sky’s End_.”

He shoved Clarke forward at arm’s length, the edge of his sword still resting against her neck.

“She tried to cheat me, and when it came to crossing blades her crew turned tail and ran, leavin’ the good Captain behind.”

Lexa had her gaze fixed on Clarke, and she could feel the intensity across the hundreds of feet between their two ships. She never looked away, meeting Lexa’s eyes, unconsciously grinding the gag between her back teeth.

“Now,” Quint continued. “We all know a pirate is worth more alive than dead when ya want to bring ‘em to the Queen. She likes to play her game, give us what she calls a fair trial, and then see us hanged herself. Captain Griffin here--” Quint shook her collar roughly for emphasis “--is at the top of Her Majesty’s hanging list, and it would be yer great pleasure to finally bring her in, wouldn’t it?”

“Get to the point, Mister Quint,” the Commander said flatly.

“I want to make a deal,” he said. “We give you Griffin, and you let us go. My crew and my dirty hide ain’t worth more than Captain Clarke Griffin, you an’ I both know that. We won’t put up a fuss. None of yer men have to die, none of my men have to waste any bullets.”

Clarke could practically hear his smug grin.

“‘Course, if you refuse, I can slit her throat meself right here right now and open fire on yer lot quick as you like. Maybe you’ll win, but then, maybe you won’t. It’s up to you, Commander.”

Clarke watched Lexa intently; she could almost hear the gears turning inside her head, feeling the weight of the decision before her. Clarke’s stomach was tight. Then Lexa spoke.

“We will take Clarke Griffin in exchange for your escape, but once we have her delivered to the Queen we will hunt you down again and I’ll see every man and woman of you hanged. Do we have an accord?”

Quint lifted the blade from Clarke’s next, extending his sword to the side in a grandiose gesture, undoubtedly baring his yellowed teeth in a broad grin.

“Aye, Commander. We have an accord.”

* * *

 

Lexa turned, descending from the foredeck, hands still clasped stiffly behind her back. Clarke’s face, her burning blue-eyed gaze, lingered in her mind. All this time, all this hunting, and here she was, bound and gagged and ready to be brought to the Queen. It sounded so simple, and Lexa felt a deep foreboding gathering in her chest. Indra’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Commander, something isn’t right. Captain Griffin’s crew wouldn’t have just left her behind; they could have annihilated Quint’s lot if they wanted to. I smell a trap.”

“As do I,” Lexa said, pulling up short and turning to the quartermaster. “Have Roan ready canons, and pass the word to keep watch for an ambush. Whatever this is, we won’t be taken by surprise.”

Indra nodded and strode off.

Lexa took a deep breath, clenching her right hand behind her back to keep herself from gripping the hilt of her sword. A battle was imminent; she could feel it. She touched the bulwark with a single hand, watching impassively as her crew lowered a rowboat to retrieve Captain Griffin from _The Hangman’s Lady_. The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she looked across the water to see the pirate captain watching her, blue eyes furious even through the blood and ugly bruise that mottled her face.

Her hand turned to a fist against the wooden rail. Battle or no, she could not let Griffin slip through her fingers another time. The constant hunting and hoping to finally apprehend the pirate was enough to drive any normal human mad, and even Lexa felt her trained and steady nerves beginning to fray. Griffin couldn’t run forever, but she had certainly tried, and the drawn out chase, the anticipation of the gallows, often filled Lexa’s thoughts in the night and kept her from sleep.

Quint’s voice jarred her thoughts.

“Jus’ in case you were thinking of tryin’ anything fancy, Commander, you should know I’ve got a marksman in my ratlines with a bead on your head. Break yer promise, and you’ll be knocking on Davy Jones’ door before you can blink.”

Lexa’s eyes went to the rigging of his ship and saw, as promised, a single sailor with a rifle trained on her. She lifted her chin slightly, keeping her expression stoic as her gaze flickered back to Quint. She didn’t grace him with a response, instead lifting her hand in a gesture to Clarke as the rowboat pulled up close to the side of the ship.

“Captain Griffin, if you would be so kind.”

* * *

  
Clarke kept her eyes on Lexa even as Quint cut through the rope binding her arms in place. It fell in a heavy coil at her feet.

  
"Leave the rest," came a voice from the rowboat below. Clarke dropped her gaze long enough to make eye contact with the massive black-haired man, Lexa's first mate.

"Her hands and mouth stay tied," he said, and she couldn't fight the snarl that wrinkled her nose.

  
The reality of her gamble was beginning to set in. She felt a shaking in her chest, a combination of adrenaline and fury, as she looked back up at Lexa. The Commander stood perfectly calm and composed at the rail of her ship, eyes steady as she watched Clarke.

  
_It'll work,_  she told herself again. _It has to work_.

  
"Into the rowboat then, Captain Griffin," Augustus called.

  
She only hesitated a moment, giving Quint a look that he met with an impassive expression before beginning her ginger descent down the rope ladder. One of the soldiers in the rowboat touched her back to steady her and she growled sharply through her gag.

  
"Dun tuh me."

  
She leapt the last few rungs, landing as lightly on her feet as she could. She was only standing a moment longer as Augustus gripped her shoulder in his vice of a hand and shoved her to sit on one of the benches right in between two soldiers. One jammed the barrel of his pistol roughly into her side and she shot him a dirty look, which he stoically ignored.

  
"Let's go," Augustus said to the rowers.

  
Clarke glanced up as the rowboat shoved off, watching as Quint gave a nod to one of his mates who disappeared out of sight behind the bulwarks. She dropped her gaze again, taking a deep breath. She knew where the mate had gone. She only hoped he’d reach Bellamy before she was on board _Night Queen_.

The seconds ticked by in a slow motion countdown, following the heavy rushing sound of the oars as they dragged her steadily toward The Commander. She stood silhouetted on the looming deck of the _Night Queen_. Clarke couldn’t see her eyes for the shadow on her face, but she could feel them.

Her heart pounded as the moments passed and the rowboat approached her would-be executioner. Maybe Quint had betrayed her. Maybe Bellamy was lying in the belly of _The Hangman’s Lady_ with a slit throat and Clarke would be swinging from Her Majesty’s gallows come sunset tomorrow. Suddenly the oars striking the water sounded like the drums of a death march.


	2. II

The clock was counting down.

_ Tick...tick...tick… _

_ BOOM. _

The cannon blast echoing from the other side of  _ The Hangman’s Lady _ sounded like redemption and Clarke’s heart leapt. The next moment the rails of  _ Night Queen _ were bristling with muskets, some pointed down at Clarke but most aimed across the water at Quint and his crew.

“Hold your fire!” Lexa’s voice roared, and Clarke didn’t have to see her face to know - The Commander was furious. 

“Quint! What is this? We had a bargain.”

Clarke didn’t dare turn to look at Quint for fear of the pistol barrel still in her side, but she could hear his false plaintiveness.

“A simple misfire, Commander. On me honor. Must’ve been a powder monkey fiddling with the fuses below decks. Rest assured, whoever it was will be answerin’ to me later.”

There was a long, tense pause. Then Lexa spoke again.

“Augustus, get Captain Griffin on board. Now.”

A twinge rippled in Clarke’s stomach. Lexa knew something was afoot. 

The rowers pulled hard on the oars, moving the rowboat from the standstill it had fallen into when the cannon fired.

Another few moments and the whole bay seemed hardly to breathe. Then the crack of a musket rang out and the man with the pistol in Clarke’s side grunted and crumpled to the bottom of the rowboat. Bellamy had come through.

Before anyone had a chance to react, a voice rang out from the rigging of  _ Night Queen _ . 

“Ship ho! Ship ho! Commander, it’s  _ Sky’s End _ !”

_ Time to go _ , Clarke thought.

She dove toward the edge of the rowboat as Augustus lunged at her. His fingers caught her shirt, but she jerked herself free and tumbled into the water. Above her, all hell had broken loose.

\------------------

“Commander, it’s  _ Sky’s End! _ ”

Lexa’s heart jerked and adrenaline flooded her veins; her instinct had been dead accurate. She knew Clarke’s faithful crew would never be too far from their Captain. 

Her sword sang aloud as she drew it quickly from her sheath.

“All guns, open fire!” she shouted, and she heard what sounded like a thunderclap as the air erupted with the blasts of a hundred muskets. Every man and woman of her crew had been ready at her word, and she watched as dozens of Quint’s men dropped like sandbags. 

The pirate crew was not taken unawares, though, every one among them suddenly armed to the teeth and unloading their myriad weapons at  _ Night Queen _ . Lexa heard Roan’s voice roaring above the melee, directing half the crew to  _ Night Queen’s _ seaward side. She turned and saw  _ Sky’s End _ across the bay, bearing down upon them off the starboard rail. Clarke’s deliverance had arrived.

A shock of realization lanced through Lexa’s chest. She glanced sharply over her shoulder to the water below just in time to see Clarke slip out of Augustus’s grasp and disappear into the water. Her teeth clenched and she turned hard on her heel, moving through the clouds of musket smoke and hailing bullets. She bounded up the stairs to the ship’s wheel. Anya was holding her position, reloading her long musket. She looked up, her eyes bright with the light of battle.

“What are your orders, little one?”

The nickname would have sounded odd to a stranger; Lexa thought nothing of it.

“We’ll take  _ The Hangman’s Lady _ broadside, empty canons on her and the survivors can try their luck at Her Majesty’s gallows.”

“And  _ Sky’s End _ ?”

“If they want a battle, they’re have to bring it to our decks.”

A smile invisible to anyone but Lexa touched Anya’s lips. She gripped the wheel and spun it until  _ Night Queen  _ groaned and began to turn.

“Then I hope they want a battle.”

\---------------

The water swallowed Clarke whole, muffling the sound of the firefight overhead. She twisted to face the surface, kicking hard away from the rowboat in case someone tried jumping in to pursue her. Her boots dragged at her feet and she shucked them off quickly. She could see the towering silhouette of the first mate and behind him the flash of cannons and rifle fire, visible even in the blazing sun. He was making a strange motion, turning to the rowers with his hand outstretched, maybe ordering them in after her. Her breath was beginning to run out and she angled upward. 

Her head broke the surface and she tore the gag from between her teeth, letting it hang around her neck as she sucked in a heavy gasp of air. 

Augustus was still standing up in the rowboat ten meters away and he had turned to face Clarke again. His shoulders were hunched; he held something long and slender in his hands. A moment too late Clarke recognized the musket. The muzzle erupted and a bullet punched through the water, only just missing her head. She dove again, veering away once she was beneath the surface to throw off his aim.

She swam as hard as she could with her hands bound, never turning her back to her hunter, but her progress was slow. She could tell by his blurred movements that he was reloading. The shadow of  _ Night Queen _ loomed close and she kicked toward it, seeking camouflage in the darkened water. Her limbs were beginning to burn. She was a ruler of the seas and oceans across the world, but only when she stood with her feet upon a solid ship’s deck. She’d never fancied the water from the inside of it, and she realized the cost of her mistake possibly too late. 

Her lungs could take no more. She pushed toward the surface, breaking through and heaving in a huge breath.

Augustus had not been fooled, and his weapon was pointed straight at her. He fired; she dodged, lunging to the side, and felt a sharp stinging in her shoulder. His bullet had only grazed her, but the pain was immense as the wound was immediately doused in seawater. She caught the cry of pain in her clenched teeth; the less weakness he saw from her, the better. But blood was beginning to color the water around her and she knew it was only a matter of time before he realized his success. 

He was reloading, and Clarke’s mind raced. If she dove again, tried to make another under-water escape, she faced the possibility of drowning, not being able to resurface due to her bonds and the gunshot wound and the way her limbs had already begun to feel like lead. Augustus had an eye sharper than she had bargained for, and he’d likely find his mark with the next shot. He was pulling the butt of the weapon to his shoulder, one eye closing to take aim. 

\----------

She was glancing down to make sure the ship didn’t collide with the rowboat below when she saw her first mate level a shot at the water and her heart plummeted. He was hunting for Clarke. He had missed, though, she could tell by the irritated shake of his head as he began reloading. She couldn’t see Clarke, but from Augustus’s stance she could tell the pirate captain had attempted to hide in the  _ Night Queen _ ’s shadow. Lexa was flying down the stairs then, heedless of the melee surrounding her as she rushed to the rail’s edge.

Augustus was lifting his weapon again, gaze sighting down the muzzle.

“ _ Augustus _ ,” Lexa roared, and even over the sound of rifle fire he heard her, looking up suddenly, clearly surprised. Lexa caught her breath, trying not to feel relieved. “I want her alive, you understand me?”

His face darkened and she knew he understood perfectly. Before he had a chance to protest or disobey, she saw him jerk suddenly, a spray of blood hitting his face. He’d been shot, though Lexa couldn’t see where. He was knocked off balance and he fell out of the rowboat with a mighty splash. Lexa looked up sharply toward  _ The Hangman’s Lady _ . Whoever had shot him had been at a forward angle... _ there _ . Crouched like a monkey on the bowsprit, just lowering his rifle. Lexa recognized him immediately -- Bellamy Blake, the loud-spoken dark-haired street rat. Cold hatred flared in her chest at the sight of him.

_ Thief. Traitor. _

He was looking down at the water and she could see his lips forming words she couldn’t hear over the din of battle, likely calling something out to Clarke. He stood, sliding a knife from his belt and setting it between his teeth, no doubt about to leap into the water to save Clarke. Before he could make another move, he was grabbed from behind by three of Quint’s men. They wrestled him from the bowsprit, overpowering him though he fought viciously. He managed to slice one across the chest with his knife before another clubbed him across the back of the head. He dropped like a deadman, and they dragged his unconscious body out of sight behind the rail.

Lexa’s eyes remained locked on where he had disappeared, her mind racing.

“Indra!” she yelled. She pushed away hard from the rail, turning back to the deck as she re-sheathed her sword. The quartermaster was mere paces away.

“Commander?”

“Prepare to board. I want this battle finished, now.”

Indra turned, ready to relay the order, but Lexa grabbed her arm.

“Bellamy Blake is on that ship,” she said. “I want him brought to me.”

“Unharmed?”

Lexa hid the smile that threatened to move her lips. “I only need him alive.”

Indra didn’t smile either, but Lexa saw the flash of excited bloodlust in her eyes. “Aye, Commander.”

\--------------

Clarke was about to dive, taking her life into her own hands rather than be shot like an animal in the water, when she heard a cry from  _ Night Queen _ directly overhead.

“ _ Augustus! _ ” 

He looked up sharply, and before Clarke could dart out of his range she heard the voice again.

“I want her alive, you understand me?”

Clarke felt her breath catch in her throat; Lexa had saved her life. For now, at least. The threat of drowning still loomed, and based on the fury on Augustus’s still up-turned face, he wasn’t happy with the idea of letting a pirate escape punishment. But he didn’t have a chance to damn the consequences before Clarke heard him grunt and he fell from the rowboat. She was stunned for a moment. Someone had shot him, someone un-interested in the battle going on between the two ships. She spat out the water that had been splashed into her mouth and looked toward  _ The Hangman’s Lady _ . Her surprise jerked a cry out of her.

“Bellamy!” 

He’d defied her orders to abandon ship the moment the signal was sent, but she felt nothing but gratitude in her desperation. She could see him yelling something. His voice was faint, but she made out a few words.

“Hold on, Clarke, I’m coming!”

Her hope was dashed just as quickly as it had been ignited. Bellamy was grabbed from behind by some of Quint’s crew. Clarke lost sight of him as one of the men bashed him across the back of the head and he disappeared behind the railing. 

Tears choked her throat, the shock of disappointment and worry like a physical blow to her chest. She was abandoned yet again, this time with her friend in the hands of a very dangerous crew. Quint must have smelled her treachery and would likely use Bellamy as a bargaining chip before  _ Sky’s End _ and her crew could make their escape. Clarke shook herself, disrupting the cloud of hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t save Bellamy if she was drowned like a rat; she’d get to safety first, and then go to his aid. 

Her eyes scanned the bay for something she could use, anything to get her out of danger. Clarke could hear the familiar snapping sound of the sails filling with air overhead, and the water was growing turbulent as the hull of  _ Night Queen _ moved forward. She kicked again with weakened legs, determined not to be run over by the massive ship, nor pulled under with the force of the tow. Something slapped her face, startling her tensed nerves. She grabbed at it, instinctively ready to fight off an assailant, and found herself holding a rope that trailed from the stern of  _ Night Queen _ . 

A slow smile replaced her look of dumbfounded surprise. Perhaps luck was still with her. She tightened her grip as the slack of the rope disappeared, uncoiling from the water to follow its host. Then the rope went taught and with a sudden jerk, she was being towed. Seaspray filled her mouth and pain sliced down her arm from the wound on her shoulder, but she held on. The angle of the ship was just as she had hoped, drawing broadside with  _ The Hangman’s Lady _ and facing the stern toward her own beloved  _ Sky’s End _ . 

She turned, straining against the rope to look over her shoulder, timing herself for the drop. As  _ Night Queen _ moved, turning laboriously in the water,  _ Sky’s End  _ came into view. Her sails were filled tight in the wind, the blue and silver pennant on the mainmast snapping in the air. She saw her crew lining the rails, the shine of swords and musket tips visible even through the spray that clouded her vision. Her heart swelled. The greatest pirate crew sailing the ocean the world over, and they were hers.

_ BOOM _ .

A cannonball smashed a crater through the hull mere feet above her head, showering her in splinters. A naval war zone was no place for a hanging human target to be. Clarke decided she was close enough to a safe exit point, and she released the rope, plunging into the water and disappearing beneath the surface. She twisted, diving further to avoid the rudder as she kicked toward the shadow of her ship.

\---------------------

“It’s her! Captain Griffin is coming back!”

The cry rang out from the crow’s nest. Kane leapt to the bulwark, lifting his spy glass to his eye. He swept the bay, searching the water near the two battling ships. 

“Harper, tell me where,” he yelled, not lowering the glass.

“Sternward the  _ Night Queen _ ,” she called back from above.

He saw her then, her shock of blonde hair surfacing from the water. She looked battered, her face bloody and bruised, but she was very much alive, and swimming as hard as she could with her hands bound in front of her. But something was wrong. Her expression was contorted with pain, and she seemed to be favoring her left shoulder as she struggled through the water. 

“Is Bellamy with her?” came Octavia’s voice from his elbow.

Kane paused, searching the water for any sign of her brother. 

“I don’t see him yet,” he said. He looked down at her. “Don’t worry. He’ll be along in no time.”

He tucked the spyglass away, turning back to the deck where the crew was waiting on orders.

“Rowers below,” he said. “We need to move closer to Captain Griffin.”

Someone grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing, Kane?” Raven’s voice was urgent. “Clarke wanted us to be ready to sail the moment we get her and Bellamy aboard.”

“She’s hurt,” he told her quietly. “I don’t know if she’ll make it to us if we don’t move in.”

Raven looked across the bay, eyes fixing on the distant form of her captain in the water. Then she shook her head.

“Forget that. Obey her orders, get us turned around. I’ll go get her.”

“Raven--”

She was already moving toward the railing, pulling her boots off as she went. “Relax, Kane. I’m a good swimmer.”

“Raven,” he said more firmly, and she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Here.”

She deftly caught the knife he threw to her. 

“Her hands are tied,” he said. 

“Good to know,” she said with a smile, slipping the knife between her teeth.

She dropped her necklace into her boot and quickly shucked off her heavy canvas shirt and trousers, leaving her in only her linen drawers and chest wrap. Taking one last glance to find Clarke and ascertain her aim, she mounted the bulwark and dove. She sliced clean through the water, immediately setting off hard toward her captain. 

Raven could swim her way through a torrential sea storm; a single expanse of clear, still water was no match for her powerful strokes. She hardly needed to surface for breath, though she did from time to time in order to spot Clarke again and stay on course. But the closer she got, the more she could see what Kane had been talking about. She was clearly hurt, and not just from the beating she had taken to sell her bluff to Lexa. Raven swam faster. She was mere yards away from Clarke when she surfaced and Clarke was gone. Raven counted to five, and when her captain didn’t come back up for air, she dove. 

Clarke was sinking, still conscious, still kicking, her expression more desperate than ever. Raven was after her in a flash, closing the distance between them and gripping Clarke’s arm just as her eyes fluttered closed.

_ Oh no you don’t,  _ Raven thought fiercely. She hoisted her in her arms and kicked powerfully upward, fixated on the feeling of Clarke’s still-beating heart through her shirt. 

They broke the surface, Raven hardly taking a moment to breathe before hoisting Clarke higher up on her shoulder and thrusting her locked fists into her abdomen. Clarke jerked, nearly lunging out of Raven’s arms, and started coughing up water. Raven held her tight, kicking to keep them both above the surface as she took the knife out from between her teeth.

“There we go,” she said. Her quippy tone hardly masking her relief. “Thought I lost you for a second, there, Cap.”

“Raven,” Clarke said, her breathing still somewhat labored. Her voice was hoarse, throat raw from the salt water.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Raven said, slipping her knife between Clarke’s hands and cutting the rope away. “Save your breath for the swim, alright?”

She wrapped her arm around Clarke’s chest and leaned back, kicking toward  _ Sky’s End  _ again. She still heard Clarke’s whisper.

“Thank you.”

\----------------------

The battle was a brief one. Lexa’s crew had made short work of the pirates; their bodies littered the bay, staining the water red. Some of them had jumped ship in an attempt to escape to land only to find themselves met by an injured but very alive Augustus and a few heavily armed men. Any who didn’t surrender on the spot were killed. The lucky ones died with a bullet in their skull. The others were ushered to Davy Jones’ locker personally by the terrifying strength of Augustus’s uninjured arm. 

_ The Hangman’s Lady _ was dead in the water even before Lexa gave the order to fire all cannons. The mizzenmast had been snapped in the middle by a well-placed cannonball and the rudder was hanging by splinters from the stern. Once Lexa saw all her crew safely back on  _ Night Queen _ , she nodded at Roan. At his word, nearly sixty guns erupted with the force of hell itself roaring open on  _ The Hangman’s Lady _ . The mangy albeit substantial pirate ship was turned to a pile of driftwood in a matter of moments, sails collapsing and masts cracking to pieces in a magnificent display of utter annihilation. The broken hull sunk into the bay, dragging several bodies with it in the undertow. 

Lexa looked on silently, watching but not seeing.

_ Sky’s End _ had escaped, and with the head start she’d gotten, a rising southern wind in her sails, Lexa knew there was no hope of catching her this time around. Clarke was gone again.  _ Again _ . Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword.

She felt Indra at her shoulder.

“Commander, we have him.”

Lexa took a deep breath, pushing the image of Clarke from her mind, and turned.

An unconscious man was before her, gagged and bound. He was on his knees, held upright by Augustus’s single arm, but his head sagged limply. The blood matting his hair ran down his cheeks and neck. 

“Is he alive?” Lexa asked shortly.

“Yes, Commander,” Augustus said. “We found him this way, but he has a pulse.”

“Wake him up.”

A bucket of water was promptly hauled aboard and thrown across the man. He came to with a startled gasp, rearing back and his bound hands coming up as if to defend himself. Augustus held him hard, keeping him in place. He blinked furiously, shaking the water from his hair, eyes darting as he struggled to get a grip on his surroundings. His gaze found Augustus first, then Indra, and finally fell on Lexa. 

She stared back coldly. His eyes widened, the true nature of his predicament dawning on him. She felt sure he would have rather been in the hands of Quint and his men. She didn’t blame him. 

“Hello, Bellamy,” she said. 


End file.
